Schlaf nun selig & süß, schau im Traum′s Paradies
by lore-liee
Summary: Charles watches Erik sleep and muses about what they are.


**_Schlaf nun selig und süß, __schau im Traum′s Paradies.  
><em>_(Sleep now peacefully and sweetly, __see the paradise in your dream.)_**

_Author: lore_liee__  
><em>_Rating: R (allusions to sex, nothing actually referenced)__  
><em>_Pairing: Erik Lensherr/Charles Xavier (X-Men: First Class)__  
><em>_Word Count: 856__  
><em>_Summary: Charles watches Erik sleep and muses about what they are.__  
><em>_A/N: Firstly, the title of this story is a line from Brahms Cradle Lullaby, a Victorian German lullaby (and its English translation). The tune is famous and the lyrics change in different versions but the official original is the German one I have used in the title. I was going to use it in my story as well, but the rest of the lyrics didn't fit quite so nicely so I reference a different one I found. Secondly, I honestly don't know what this was. It's a fluff bunny that got away from me. I rather like it though because it takes two powerful mutants and reduces them to vulnerable humans. Sleep can do that, you know. I like that I can avoid dialogue in this so my old OOC fear can be neglected.  
>I stand by what I always say: if you don't like this, don't read it. I don't appreciate flaming in any shape or form. I do however welcome any constructive criticism, or positive comments. If this isn't your cup of tea, turn away now and go and watch something else, make a coffee, read a different story – don't hurt me. I write this for the pleasure of others, not for the pain of myself.<em>

_ENJOY. (ps, long A/N is long.)_

_PS. I adore favourites, reviews... like any writer. It's nice to hear what you think. However, I know from myself that I hold you under no obligation to leave them. Do what you prefer and I will be happy regardless. Just knowing you are reading it a nice enough feeling._

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><p>It is two o'clock in the morning and Charles Xavier is dozing – never quite asleep. He rolls over onto his side and stares into the face of the man truly asleep next to him. It's hard to pinpoint what makes Erik Lensherr striking to him when he is awake, his face contorted with angst and rage. However, when he is asleep, his face relaxes and he looks more serene than Charles knows he can ever hope to in life.<p>

This thing between them has no name. They didn't even expect it. One moment they are playing chess and musing about their ideas for the future of the mutant race and the next, they are a naked mess of limbs and sheets. They are breathing funny and their hearts are drumming in their chests. Everything is sticky and sweaty and they know they should care but they can't. This is so wrong but it feels so right. No one has ever understood them in the way they understand each other. Erik has always been alone just like Charles but now they have each other and they have this. The pleasure from this is electric; it thrums through their veins and makes them feel alive - alive in only a way that using their powers had ever felt before.

Their kisses feel finite though, as if they know that they exist solely in the moment. They are always greedy with their touches, memorising every inch of each other and praying that their fingers have a photographic function so that they never forget this. Everything is tinged with sadness, melancholia and loss as if they know it will end eventually. They mourn the end while they live in the middle of the story. It is why they take every second they can get and live in it, relishing every action, every thrust and every motion. They all feel different and are cherished unlike any moment in history before or after. They don't understand why they want each other, they just know it is constantly there, in the background of their bodies, keeping them going – not unlike their powers which keep them going, keep them _them_.

Charles is using his powers now, but he doesn't even acknowledge that. He roams with his mind subconsciously as he relaxes, trying to find his elusive sleep but failing, always failing. Erik's mind is part of what fascinates him and keeps him awake. When he is observed by anyone, it is visible why Erik is so attractive, but Erik cannot truly understand what keeps Charles' attention. His mind is filled with languages, subconscious memories Charles has yet to discover, pain, joy, anger, rage, serenity and music all fighting to come to forefront of his focus. As Charles lies there, in the moonlight, he listens carefully to one of many lilting German lullabies in Erik's long forgotten memories.

_Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf. __  
><em>_Der Vater hüt die Schaf, __  
><em>_Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein,  
>Da fällt herab ein Träumelein. <em>_  
><em>_Schlaf, Kindlein schlaf_

It is then that Charles wishes that Erik hadn't suffered so much, hadn't endured such heartache and pain because if his mind was a colour when he dreams, it is the palest pink, the lightest purples or the brightest yellows. It is beautiful and stunning and unblemished and calm. When he is awake, when he is fighting, it flashes red, green and black in continuous cycles.

As Charles watches the man sleep, he notices his face begin to crumple in on itself, the brokenness of his alert self surfacing. He begins to root deeper into Erik's dreaming, wandering mind but doesn't need to go far. He sees the memory of the candles in some forgotten German basement, and Erik's mother whispering mindless nothings to keep him distracted. Charles knows that Erik is mourning afresh, as this memory his consciousness can remember unlike the others floating around his dormant mind.

Instinctively, like a lover, Charles moves his hand forward and begins to rub his thumb across Erik's cheek and jaw. Any feelings of stupidity and femininity are lost when Erik responds subconsciously, his face slacking into a gentle smile.

All those fleeting, desperate, limited kisses and touches feel worth it now and the electricity thrums through Charles once more. Tentatively, he projects an image of warmth and love, his own feelings from their love-making earlier, into Erik's sleeping mind and whispers words of comfort and calm. He is glad that he can do this for him right now, because he doesn't know how long they have left.

Before he breaks his own heart, Erik responds in like, with an image of Charles asleep through his own eyes and his mind colours the warmest blue. He can hear an errant thought, '_the colour of his eyes_', in the back of Erik's head. Charles smiles wider and falls asleep to the thoughts of Erik's feelings, the depth of his adoration and doesn't care what morning brings.

They both know that this is ending, but for now they ignore the tolling of the clock as they sleep, cloaked in beautiful images of dreaming men, feverish kisses and something bigger than themselves.

~FIN.


End file.
